


Part Two

by foretoldjen



Series: Of Love and Puppies [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkwardness, Fluff, M/M, Puppies, Sobriety, frerard!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foretoldjen/pseuds/foretoldjen





	Part Two

Gerard Way lives quietly. He’s not a famous painter, but he’s able to make a living off of his work, enough to pay for a decent apartment in the city, and to finance his steady diet of coffee, cigarettes, brie cheese, and crackers. He forgets to eat a lot, so there’s never much in his kitchen. It’s not intentional, but sometimes he spends fourteen hours straight on a canvas, and then crashes for three or four hours, then gets up and goes back to painting. It’s usually not until he’s done does he realize that _fuck I am starving,_ and then he munches on brie and crackers, and maybe an apple if he has one. He stopped drinking and smoking pot after art school, finding that he didn’t really like himself very much when he was drunk or high. He goes to lunch once a week with Mikey, his younger brother, at the same diner, and always orders a medium rare burger with fries and a coke. When he finishes his meal, he orders a strawberry milkshake. His only other contacts are his agent, who calls him once a week to check up and see how pieces are coming along, and his mother, who also calls once a week to check up. Occasionally, his agent sets up a show at a gallery or a meeting with a client, and Gerard hates those because he has to wear nice clothes, and actually comb his hair, and _talk_ to people, and yeah, that’s the worst part.  

Gerard’s apartment is in a constant state of disarray, littered with paint cans and brushes, and canvases pushed up against the wall, some unfinished pieces of crap that he will never return to, and some works in progress. He has a TV, but rarely uses it, usually only when he gets sick and can’t find it in himself to pick up a brush. 

His family worries about him, _you don’t get out enough, you need more friends, when’s the last time you saw anyone but Mikey? Are you eating properly?_

Gerard’s life is quiet, and routine, and -most people don’t believe him when he says this- but he really is happy, or at the very least, quite content. 

Then he got Zoe. 

Zoe is- was- a jack russell terrier. He had gone to the shelter with the intention of getting a bigger, older dog, but then he saw Zoe, and his heart kind of melted. Mikey had been saying for months that he needed a pet, said it would get him out more, maybe make him more social and meet someone new. 

Zoe was three months old when Gerard brought her home. He was home most of the time, so even though they had advised him to get a kennel for her, he decided against it. When he went to lunch with Mikey, he left Zoe in the bedroom, made sure there was nothing she could get into, left a potty pad on the floor (though she didn’t quite understand the potty pad at first), and her bed in the corner. And Zoe did fine in his room. Usually, when he came home from lunch, Zoe was curled up asleep. Gerard tried to take Zoe on a walk at least once a day, but sometimes that didn’t happen. Zoe didn’t seem to mind too much. Zoe was honestly the calmest, best puppy in the entire world- she quite literally defied every puppy stereotype that existed.

The first time they really bonded was a month after he brought her home. Gerard had bronchitis, and was hacking up a lung about every five minutes. He sat on the couch and watched reruns of Doctor Who for hours on end, and Zoe never left his side. Every time he had a coughing fit, Zoe whined, almost like she was concerned, and when it was over, she would crawl on his chest, and spend five minutes kissing his face. Mikey came over periodically and heated up cans of soup for him, and still Zoe, who normally, when Mikey came over, would rush to the door and jump on him, did not leave his side. About four days into his bronchitis, he found himself talking to Zoe, like, having a full blown conversation with her. He would talk, and then he would talk for her in his head and sometimes even out loud, and Zoe would just stare up at him with those big brown eyes like she knew everything he was saying, like she _understood._ Eventually, Gerard got better. But he noticed after a while that he had, somehow, settled into a new routine. Gerard woke up in the morning, usually around 9 or 10, he would feed Zoe, and drink his coffee and smoke, and then he would paint- sometimes for three hours sometimes for five, but he never went past five. After five hours, he fed Zoe her dinner, and then they cuddled on the couch for an hour and watched television, Gerard commenting for himself and Zoe, and then they would go for a walk, come home, and cuddle in bed, Gerard talking until they eventually both fell asleep. 

So when Zoe got sick, he kind of freaked out. Well, really freaked out. It happened really fucking fast. He woke up that Tuesday morning to Zoe having diarrhea all over the bed. He tried to get her to drink water and eat a little bit, but she wouldn’t touch anything. She stayed on her bed for most of the day, while Gerard took the the internet, trying to figure out what what wrong. Eventually, he took her to the hospital. She died two days later. 

Gerard stopped painting. He stopped eating. The most he could muster was a couple cups of coffee a day, and a ridiculously unhealthy amount of cigarettes. Mikey came by everyday. Usually, he walked into Gerard sitting at the kitchen table with a cold cup of coffee and a half smoked cigarette, staring numbly at a wall. 

One week after she died he walked to the dog park. It was three blocks away from his apartment, and he spent a whole three hours there, just watching dogs play. 

And so Gerard found a new routine. He found it in himself to start painting again, and he went back to his diet of brie and crackers. Everyday he walked to the dog park and watched the dogs play for a couple hours. Then he walked home and went back to his canvases. So when Frank showed up at the dog park with Winston, offering condolences and understanding, Gerard looked at him, and for the first time, really actually saw him- and jesus was he fucking gorgeous. Frank had full sleeve tattoos and a lip ring, his hair was short, and he had these stunning hazel-green eyes, and _damn._ But then Gerard remembered that Frank had Ray and felt a stab of disappointment, because Frank was a really fucking nice guy, who also happened to be really fucking hot, and seemed to like talking to Gerard. Gerard couldn’t have been more relieved when Frank told him he and Ray were just friends.  

Gerard hasn’t actually been on a date since art school (a guy named James, and well, it didn’t work out.) So at 7:45 on Friday night, Gerard is fighting with his hair, trying to make it do something seemingly presentable. He fidgets in front of the mirror. He’s wearing a white button down and a striped tie, with black vest thrown over it. The sleeves of the shirt are rolled up to his elbows because it’s _finally_ getting warmer. His jeans are dark, but not black, and he’s got on chucks. He hopes Frank likes what he’s wearing and that it’s appropriate- they’re going to dinner somewhere and then to see a band play (Gerard can’t actually remember the last time he went to a show, probably in art school). In all honesty, he’s a nervous wreck, and he just really fucking wishes Zoe was here to talk to. 

Frank asked him out precisely six days ago, since then they have met at the dog park two times, and talked on the phone every day. He shouldn’t be this worried, Frank is nice, and easy to talk to, and he _likes_ Frank, a lot, and it’s not like they’ve barely spoken before this, so he _shouldn’t_ be nervous. He tells himself not to be. He still is. 

The buzzer rings throughout the apartment at exactly 8pm, and Gerard texts Frank _be right down_ instead of buzzing him up because he didn’t really realize how much of a _wreck_ the place is until that buzzer went off. He walks down the stairs, and tries not to throw up. He’s kind of a drama queen, but jesus it’s been _three years_ since he’s actually gone out with someone and had to you know, like, impress them. Frank is waiting on the stoop smoking a cigarette when Gerard comes out, and goddamn he looks good. He smiles at Gerard, a large, kind of goofy grin, that has Gerard smiling too. 

“Hey,” Frank says, and pulls him into a hug. “You uh, you look really great.” 

Gerard screams internally, “Thanks,” he says quietly. “You do too.” 

Frank walks them toward the subway, and they’re silent. Gerard has no idea what to say. They get on the train, find seats, and finally, Frank says, “I hope you like italian.” 

“Oh yeah, yeah of course. Actually, I’m italian, so, um...yeah," he finishes, and immediately blushes because god he is so  _lame._

“You’re Italian?” Frank says, in slight amazement. 

Gerard laughs softly, “Yeah, I know I don’t look it. I’m Scottish too, so I guess I got more of that gene when it comes to appearance.” 

And then they’re talking. And it’s easy, Gerard talks about his parents and Mikey, and growing up in Jersey, and as it turns out, Frank is a Jersey boy too, and they talk about Gerard’s art and Frank’s classes and how he can’t wait to graduate in a month (he’s majoring in music with a minor in business), and Frank brings up Batman and then they’re on about comics, and Gerard asks about Winston, and Frank goes on and on about the dog for a long fucking time, but Gerard doesn’t mind because when Frank talks about Winston he kind of talks about him like Winston’s his kid, and he has that goofy smile on his face, and all in all, Frank is just a really cool fucking guy, Gerard thinks. 

They eventually walk up to a restaurant with the name _Pisticci_ plastered on the building, and Frank takes his hand and they walk in, but Gerard can’t really focus on well, _anything,_ because Frank is holding his hand, and it feels small and delicate, but he can feel callouses on the tips of his fingers, and _fuck_ he just _can’t focus._ They sit outside, and one part of Gerard is happy that they had to break their hands apart because it was distracting, and he really just wants to know if Frank likes him as much as Gerard likes Frank, because Gerard is starting to realize that he’s got a huge, school-girl crush on this guy with tattoos and a lip ring. 

Frank asks if Gerard wants to share a bottle of wine. 

“Oh, um, I...no, sorry. I don’t, I don’t drink. Sorry.” He says nervously, and extremely embarrassed because it is very _uncool_ for a twenty five year old to _not_ drink. Frank just shrugs like it’s nothing, says no worries, and orders a glass of white wine for himself. Gerard has a coke. They order, and continue their conversation of comic books, and then food comes, and _holy fucking shit_ Gerard is in heaven. He can’t remember the last time he said something other than brie and crackers or a hamburger. He vows to start eating different foods. Frank is still talking, and Gerard’s listening, but he also extremely engrossed in his penne, and Frank laughs at him, but kindly. 

“Glad you’re enjoying it,” Frank says. 

Gerard smiles, nervously, and says, “I uh, well I don’t eat out a lot.” 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to change that won’t we?” And there’s a sparkle in Frank’s eyes. 

Gerard just smiles. 

 

 

The club is fogged with smoke, and Gerard can’t remember the last time he’s been in a crowd like this. He’s not handling it well. He does his best to hide it from Frank and focus on the music. The band is good. Frank knows the drummer, Brian or Brad or...possibly Bob, yeah Bob sounds right, and he doesn’t know how he did this so often when he was in school because the amount of bodies surrounding him is really, well, freaking him the fuck out. He wants to leave, but he doesn’t want Frank to think he’s _weird_ or a loser or anything, plus Frank seems to be having a really good time. He decides he’ll step out for just a minute. 

“I’m gonna go outside!” Gerard yells to him. 

“What?” Frank yells back. 

“Outside!” Is all Gerard says, and motions a cigarette with his hand. Frank nods, and gives him a smile and a wink, and Gerard wants to plant his lips on Frank’s mouth right there, but he isn’t that ballsy, so he leaves for his cigarette. 

He walks to the alley behind the club to avoid the people milling out front, and sighs deeply once he’s alone. One cigarette turns into four, and he’s lighting the fifth when a door screeches open a few feet away from where he’s leaning on the wall. A man with short blonde hair and an impressive beard emerges, and he sticks a cigarette in his mouth, unaware of Gerard completely. Gerard watches him pat down the pockets of his jeans, presumably looking for a lighter, but apparently he’s out of luck. Gerard clears his throat, holding out his lighter. 

“Shit, man,” he says, taking it from him and lighting the cigarette, “You’re a fucking _lifesaver.”_

Gerard just smiles and shrugs, because the casual conversation with fellow smokers is something he had just never gotten the hang of, but then again, Gerard can’t really initiate conversation with  _anyone._

The guy saves Gerard from awkwardness though, “You here for the show?” 

Gerard coughs, “Yeah, um, I, yeah.”  

“What’d’ you think?” 

“Oh, um I only watched the first band, but they were really good. After that I just...um, needed a break.” 

The guy laughs, “Bob,” he says and offers Gerard his hand. 

“Not the drummer Bob?” he asks, shaking it. 

“The one and only,” he grins. 

“Oh, um, you’re Frank’s friend. I’m his...friend, other friend” Gerard pauses (It’s only been one date and the date’s not even over yet, he can’t say _boyfriend!)._

“Oh, you’re Gerard!” He says, excitedly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Frankie’s told me all about you! He mentioned you were coming tonight. Sorry about your puppy, Frank told me how you guys met.” 

“Oh, yeah, um, thanks.” Gerard says. ( _Frankie?)_

“So why aren’t you inside? Aren’t you and Frankie on a date?” Bob says. 

Gerard suddenly feels very guilty, and realizes he’s been out here for much longer than he intended to be. He frowns, at himself mostly, “Yeah, shit, I guess i’m just not good with crowds. I didn’t mean to be out here for so long.” 

Bob stubs out his cigarette just as Gerard takes his last drag, and says “Well, let’s get you back inside then,” he doesn’t say anything more, just leads him through the back door of the club. They find Frank at the bar, staring intently at his phone, looking worried. 

“Frank!” Bob says loudly.

He looks up, and relief washes over him, “Hey! There you are! I was texting you. I looked outside for you and everything.” 

Gerard feels like a total prick. “Sorry,” he says quietly. 

Frank turns to Bob, “Hey man, great show, you killed it, as usual. I think Gerard and I are going to take off though.” 

Bob just nods understandingly, and whispers something in Frank’s ear when they embrace. Frank laughs, and takes Gerard’s hand and leads him out of the club. 

“Look I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to bail on you.” 

Frank just smiles, “You really weren’t kidding when you said you don’t get out much, were you?” 

Gerard grimaces, and this is it, this is the moment when Frank has realizes what a complete and utter hermit weirdo he is, and the night will end with a brief hug and an empty promise to call. Gerard knows he’s weird, he’s known that for a long time, and usually, he’s totally and completely okay with it, but he really fucking _likes_ Frank, like a lot, and he wants Frank to like him back, and Frank is _hot,_ probably the hottest guy he’s ever gone out with, and Gerard has totally blown it because he’s _weird._ He resigns to never leave his apartment again, and make sure that Mikey is the only person he ever socializes with again, because Mikey likes that Gerard is weird, and frankly, Mikey is pretty weird himself. 

“Hey, you still with me?” Frank says, trying to meet his eyes. 

“Sorry!” He says, “I um, well I guess I’ll head home now, thanks for dinner, it was really nice, you were really nice, see you around,” Gerard says in one breath and then turns and walks- practically runs- away. 

 


End file.
